


Sober

by jensening



Series: Chasefield Adventures [12]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4764131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensening/pseuds/jensening
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max has a little talk with Victoria after her drunken escapades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sober

**Author's Note:**

> I have had a request from both **CalmSurrender** and **Ollivander** to do a one-shot of the morning after Victoria wakes up from her drunken escapades in my previous one-shot 'Drunk'. So, here it is! I enjoyed writing this, it's my longest one yet. Well, it has the most words, at least.

When Victoria wakes up, it takes her a moment to recognise where she is. With her eyes closed she feels like she's spinning, round and round, unstopping, and the sensation makes her feel so sick, makes her eyes feels so out of place, dizzy, that they snap open with a blurry clarity. The light in the room is horrible for her sight. So horrible, she groans, slaps a hand lazily to her forehead to cover it from her eyes, and they immediately bunch into a squint.

It is then, she realises, at a glance, she is not in her room.

She is in Max's.

And the memories, although distant, although blurry and of some other reality, are there. They are there, and it murders her to watch her drunken self unfold before Max, tell her that she's pretty, that her photography is good, that she's kind and that – that Victoria wants to sleep with her –

She pulls the covers completely over her head, however, when she remembers that she had told Max she loved her. It is unclear if Victoria had actually said it, unclear if this is her imagination or some sick little trick her drunk mind had played on her, but, either way, she feels her gut cry out in regret – regret of what she had done, and of the alcohol she had consumed. It is horrible, Victoria thinks, to feel your stomach cramp with the toxins of alcohol, but even worse when it is cramped with anxiety on top of this.

With the covers over her, Victoria is encapsulated in darkness. She cannot see, hopes the images will go away, relishes that no one can see her blushing face –

Takes a deep breath in. The covers smell of Max. It relaxes her, but she wishes it wouldn't.

Max is the cause of this. She's why Victoria feels so uncomfortable right now, hating herself, hating what she has done, panicked and terrified that this blurry, distant memory, this dark swell in her brain, is actually true, and that she had told Maxine these things –

But she knows that it isn't Max's fault. It's her own fault for getting very drunk, and her own fault for, in her drunken consciousness, knocking on Maxine's door late at night.

She wishes she hadn't done it – hopes she hadn't, begs with whatever God will hear her that she didn't as she clings to Max's covers.

And then, in a moment of horrid realisation, she realises that Max isn't with her.

A good or a bad thing? Good or bad – good or bad?

Could the pounding in her head stop for a moment, give her a second to breath? She feels enclosed and small, but her heart feels large like it has swelled and her throat feels choked with insecurity, and most likely strained from the alcohol.

Victoria pulls her head out from the covers.

She puts it back under when she sees Max is now in the room, looking at her.

"What do you want, Maxine?" she says, blushing and so incredibly happy that she is hidden right now.

"I brought you some water." Max replies. "And some medicine. I thought you would need it, after last night."

She doesn't just need it, she craves it. She wants it so badly she thinks her body will pull herself from under her covers, reach out and take it, with or without her consent. But she stays under. She will not meet those bright, happy blue eyes and admit to them the things she had done, because they are too good for her to intrude upon –

"I figured you'd be feeling pretty crap after last night?"

Victoria feels her muscles tense. She speaks, but her voice is hoarse, and it takes far more effort than it should. "What? Crap? Why – why would I feel crap about last night, Maxine, it isn't as if I said anything _stupid_ –" she feels the croak in her throat, and begins to cough. The covers collapse on top of her, and as her body, exhausted, jolts with every sharp cough, she knows she needs the water very, very badly.

So, she braves it. Or she goes to, at least, but Max beats her to it – throws the covers off of her and hands Victoria the water. Victoria takes small sips of the drink, her stomach too fucked to swallow too much water at a time. She does not look at Max. If she looks at Max, who knows what she could see? See a girl, laughing at her, finally finding a reason to disgrace her – or see a girl, pitying her, a stupid little look in her eyes because she feels bad that she doesn't return Victoria's feelings – or, worse, will she see Maxine with no look at all? Will Max have taken her drunken ramblings seriously, or thrown them aside as just that?

Did Victoria even tell Max that she loved her? It was a bit strong to call it _love_ –

But then, against her wishes, the sanity of her mind, the exhaust of her body, the beating of her heart, she looks at Max.

And all she sees is a girl who is worried about her, frowning slightly, holding out two little white tablets for Victoria.

And Victoria feels her heart ache.

"Thanks." says Victoria, pushing aside her pride, her worry, her very instincts. She takes the tablet from Max, shoves one in her mouth, kicks back some water, and then swallows the second.

"It's not a problem." Max replies, and she takes a seat on the edge of her bed, away from Victoria, nervously playing with her hands and pulling at her fingers. Max is staring away from her. Victoria feels nauseous. "And I just meant because of your drinking. Not because - because of the stuff you said. I just wouldn't just leave you alone."

"No?" Victoria says. "You don't trust me in your room, alone in your bed?"

Max blushes and looks out towards her window, trying to hide it. But Victoria sees it, see it and for a moment feels panicked that that actually is why she wouldn't leave her alone –

But then Max mumbles something that makes her feel warm inside. "No – I – I like you in my bed." And blushes harder.

Victoria remembers last night, and feels her own face grow hot as well. She'd asked Max if she'd liked her in her bed, and, now, apparently, had her answer. And then it dawns on her.

_Oh God._

She feels herself get hotter, feel sicker, more nauseous, feels her hands grow clammy and her ears grow pink, her heart grow erratic. "I didn't imagine it?" she whispers, slowly, fastly, loudly, refusing to meet her eyes.

"What part?" is Max's reply.

"All of it." Victoria rushes. "The compliments, the hugging, the – the flirting and the –" Victoria pauses. Swallows animatedly – looks at Max who is looking at her, blushing so red her face is fiery, but is still looking at her with her cool eyes – "the _I love you_." she whispers.

Max jumps slightly at the words, looks away. "Yeah," she says, trying to hit a nonchalant tone but her voice is shaking. "you did say - _that_ – I mean, that did happen."

Victoria slumps her shoulders, pushes her cup to her lips and drinks, little by little, just so she has something to do. Something to focus on besides the awkwardness of the moment, and the churning in her stomach. She focuses on the water that is tasteless but not without taste, focuses on swallowing as little as possible to make it last –

She pulls the cup away, swallows her water too harshly. "I didn't – I didn't _mean_ it." She says, feeling like she'd just kicked herself in the shin with the words.

"Right." Max replies. She laughs, half-heartedly, shakily, stands, shakes her head. Looks at Victoria with this weird smile. "No, no, I know you didn't. Of course you didn't."

Victoria feels wounded. Feels as if she's wounded Max, as well, though she hasn't a clue why. Max just looks like she's hurt –

And that is when the second realisation hits her, and it is so fast and is so much to absorb that she barely has enough time to take a breath, and by that point Max has the door open and Victoria is standing so fast she thinks she'll throw up –

But she grabs Max's wrist, turns her to face her. Max does not look at her face.

"Maxine." Victoria says, trying not to sound like she might puke up half a liquor store. "Don't – don't leave."

She recognises the vulnerability in her voice. Makes the conscious choice to let it stay.

"Maxine, I don't mean that – I mean, I didn't mean what I just said, then, but I do mean what I said to you last night, no matter how drunk I was –" she blushes and looks down to her hand, holding Max's wrist, grips it a little more desperately. "I do – I mean I do have – musings –" she frowns. Her mouth opens and closes again, unable to get the words out. She tries, tries so hard _you have no idea_ to say the words seriously. But she is not used to exposing herself so much, and so she fails to keep that bitchy, protective voice from slipping from her mouth. "I do have feelings for you, is – is what I'm trying to say like some fucking idiot."

Max stays looking at the floor. Victoria doesn't drop Max's wrist, thinks she probably should, but Max doesn't try to escape from the hold so she keeps it selfishly in her hand. They stand there, still but shuffling, and Victoria really wants to know what Max is thinking, where she's looking, if her lips are smiling, if her eyes are bright, if she is frowning with the cute little frown line between her eyebrows –

"I'm sorry." Victoria mumbles, defeated, letting her shoulders slump. She lets Max's wrist slip from her grip. Gives her the choice to leave. As if, Victoria thinks, as if Max would want her after the things she's done.

"It's okay." Max replies. Victoria watches as her hand reaches out, grabs at her own hand loosely, and Max keeps it there. Her hands are warm, and Victoria's boiling, so although it is uncomfortable Victoria deals with it, because it is _Max_ that is touching her, and her fingertips are soft and she is still here. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

And Victoria looks up to meet her. Her lips are twitching into what Victoria hopes is a smile. "Because." Victoria says, searches her brain for an answer. "Because you're you and I'm me, and there are different standards and different things expected of both of us."

Max frowns a little, but then she pulls at Victoria's hand a little, makes her come forward. She still feels sick, but deals with it as a welcome friend because alcohol is what allowed her to get so close to Max. "But I –" Max begins, and then she shakes her head, looks down with a smile, and huffs a laugh. "I like you, too."

Victoria freezes. "what?" she says, her mouth numb. "How the fu – flip do you like me?" she asks. "I'm horrible to you!"

Victoria doesn't want to swear at such an intimate time, an intimate moment. But it's her, so it proves hard enough for her to want to quit swearing altogether.

"Because." Max replies, and Victoria smiles because now the situation is reversed. "You're really gorgeous, and although you were mean to me, you were mean to a lot of people and with me, you always changed when your groupies – I mean _friends_ – weren't around. And when we were alone, like that time in the dark room, you were funny, and sweet, and you made me smile. I'm not saying my, uh, feelings were instant – they were very slow, and crept up on me like a cheetah, but they're there." Max smiles. "And I don't think they're going to go away any time soon."

"Right." Victoria says, dumbfounded.

"Right." Max replies, teasingly.

"Yeah." Victoria slumps back onto Max's bed, her legs weak either with illness or love or maybe the two together – "Well I guess, Maxine, I'll, uh, I'll – ask you out sometime?"

Max nods. "That sounds great."

"Well okay." Victoria says. "Okay. I'll – I'll do just that."

"I look forward to it."

Victoria gives a dazed nod, stands, collects her things off of the floor, does a quick three-sixty of the room to see if she's forgotten anything (and also to give her an excuse to look away from Max) and then nods again. She walks to the door, her heels in her hands. Presses her palm to the doorway, looks back at Max.

"Thank you, Maxine." She says. "For – looking after me."

Max smiles. "You're welcome here for all your drunken escapades, Tori."

Victoria's flushes at the nickname. "Right." She mumbles, turning around and walking out the door. "I'll, uh – thanks."

She walks the short distance across the hall, opens her door, looks back to Max who is watching her with a smile, waves awkwardly at her, enters her room and shuts the door.

Victoria smiles. Her shoes fall from her grip and she squeals, her hands bunching up into fists and her feet pounding against the floor in excitement. And then she collapses against the door in exhaustion – both from the alcohol, and from her emotions – and cannot get the grin to wipe off her face.

She had a feeling that this hangover would be the best one yet.


End file.
